“Does this mean we’re fucked?”

“We just might be. Reed, try again.”

“This is Ringleader. I repeat this is Ringleader. Please respond.”

The team has been trying to communicate with the Entesian military, which should have responded by now. It’s been a little over half an hour, and so far, they have received no response.

“Maybe they’re late.”

“They better be.”

“If only they hurried up with those damn satellites.”

“Soon.”

The big obstacle that the team faces is the lack of communication capabilities. Because Entesia has been in isolation for a good portion of its existence, communication technology never expanded outside its borders. No undersea cables are stretching across the ocean floor from continent to continent, and space technology has only recently begun to take shape. Entesia has already launched a few satellites into orbit, but they are not yet operational and need time before they can be utilized by units in the field.

It would be convenient for radio waves to travel from Scorcia straight to Entesia, but the curvature of Adon makes it an impossible dream. To temporarily solve the problem, the Entesian Navy came up with a rather interesting idea. Luckily for them, the size of the navy and the other military branches grew exponentially as a result of the Reagan era. His six hundred ship navy plan carried over to a lesser extent, and warships have been in construction for decades.

They plan to periodically deploy warships, including a small number of aircraft carriers, at regular intervals across the ocean. Carrier launched aircraft would get close to Scorcia to pick up Ringleader Team's signal and transmit it to the carrier, who would then relay it to the next warship. The idea is to bounce communications from warship to warship all the way to the mainland.

But today, it seems like the navy is late as the team looks on in frustration at the night sky.

Suddenly, the radio crackles, and a voice comes through, much to the relief of everyone.

“FRAG: Ringleader, come in. This is the ERS Robert McNamara of the Entesian Navy. Do you copy?”

When hearing the voice through the radio, everyone smiles and giggles at each other as if they dodged a bullet. They aren’t screwed, after all.

“Yes, this is Ringleader, we copy.”

.

.

Six hundred miles east, flying at over twenty-five thousand feet above the ocean, is an E-2 Hawkeye. It is essentially invisible in the night sky, impossible to spot with the eyes as it perfectly blends into the sky.

The plane sports a blue camouflage paint scheme as opposed to being gray. It is the decision of Entesian officials to make widespread use of camouflage in all branches of the military. They reasoned that camouflage would be paramount in a world where the enemy doesn't have radar and relied on visual detection.

The radar dome on top of the E-2 continues to spin as the propellers and engines emit its distinct buzzing noise that travels throughout the night sky. After a while of flying, the plane banks to one side and turns away. It is now heading east on its long journey back to its home: the ERS Robert McNamara.

An Entesian built Nimitz-class nuclear aircraft carrier.

The sound of the propeller-driven aircraft fades, and the E-2 disappears into the night sky. But it isn’t quiet. To the ignorant listener, it only worsens. With no storm or lightning insight, the sounds of distant thunder are heard from two distinct sources. Only one thing could explain the strange noise. It is the ear-shattering roar of jet engines.

.

.

While everything in Scorcia proceeds smoothly, the same can’t be said on the other side of the planet. A full-blown war is raging in south Weslec. The Kingdom of Eshe, in particular, is fighting for its very survival.

Ever since first contact, the Venesians seem hellbent on colonizing what they dub ‘the new world’. When the elves in Eshe pushed out the initial explorers, the Venesians responded by dispatching a massive fleet made up of hundreds of warships. Along with the Venesian invasion, the STC also arrived alongside them to exploit resources and send back slaves.

To make matters worse, what was initially thought to be a simple trade agreement turned into a betrayal. Considered to be the most powerful country in the new world, the dwarven Empire of Narazar was expected by some elf and human countries to become a mediator between the new and old world. Instead, they allied themselves with the Venesians and offered the intelligence, land, ports, and supplies they needed to wage war. In exchange, the Kinzad continent and all dwarves would be spared from being involved in the war as well as getting access to some of Venesia’s most advanced industrial technologies.

No one in the ‘new world’ except for Entesia is a developed country. The art of the blade is at the forefront of warfare. Knights in shining armor and elven mages are the pinnacles of power. Only the dwarves can be said to be extensively researching and experimenting with black powder. It is an understatement to say that genocide would unfold in the face of black powder muskets and cannons that the Venesians and STC are armed with.

The Entesian Federal Government was having none of this and authorized the military and Entesian Intelligence Agency to slow down or force the war into a stalemate from the shadows until the Rothester Plan matures. The Department of Defense issued Operational Plan 1024 to combat the Venesians in the meantime.

For months, as one of many operations, the EIA has been tracking and spying on imperial forces who then anonymously inform the Eshe Army and other resistance forces with detailed war plans. They also capture and produce exact copies of enemy firearms and hide stashes of them around various areas for the elves to stumble upon. The Entesian military has also been conducting a series of black operations to kill enemy commanders and sabotage supply lines to make it difficult for the Venesians to move around effectively.

All of this effort is conducted only by the Special Operations Command per Operational Plan 1024, which restricts which forces are allowed to participate in combat. Conventional forces are barred from action as the foreign infrastructure and logistics don’t exist to properly support them.

Added to the emphasis on perceived neutrality and isolation, Entesia aims to influence the war without disclosing any involvement. So long as no one suspects them to be involved, they will always have an advantage. This is especially important since Entesia’s entire military is less than half a million in total personnel, only a fraction of them being combat-capable. Not to mention that a full-scale war would quickly expend their advanced munitions of which they can’t yet independently produce in mass.

Launching any significant attack that draws attention is strictly forbidden unless absolutely necessary.

.

.

In the forests of Eshe, the sounds of firecrackers can be heard. But if only they are simple firecrackers. They are the gunshots of Venesian firearms shooting into the dense forest. Men armed with flintlock muskets, pikes, crossbows, halberds, short swords, and sabers are also armored with metal breastplates and helmets with bright red and white clothing underneath. They are copies of the Conquistadors.

With only a few captured flintlock muskets and crossbows, the elves mostly fight back with swords, bows, and arrows. Some of them are professional knights of the Kingdom’s army, but most are militia made up of farmers and laborers or other ordinary people.

This isn’t any typical battler. This is an ambush.

For the Venesian invaders, this attack went horribly wrong. A soldier armed with a flintlock musket and a saber looks around the trees in panic. The elves are everywhere, and he can hear the cries and moans of his fellow soldiers being shot at from seemingly everywhere. The elves outnumber them, and they hide among the trees and bushes while their own armor and bright clothing painfully stand out in the forest. His armor has a few dents and bloodstains; he had cut down an elf who had attempted to attack him while he reloaded his musket. He aims and looks around for more targets, as did his comrades.

“Commander! What do we do! They have us surrounded!” someone yells.

Bodies, both elves, and humans are starting to pile up.

“Curses! How did they know we are here! We should be the ones ambushing them! Not the other way around!” the commander yells in anger.

Pretty quickly, the commander himself is struck by an arrow to his neck and bleeds out. The gunshots and death continue for a few minutes before they eventually cease. Without a commander, the Venesian soldiers throw down their weapons and surrender.

On their knees, the Venesian prisoners are now being questioned by the victorious elves.

“You! Where are you invaders heading to?” asks one of the elves to a Venesion prisoner.

“I won’t tell you, scum!”

The elf proceeds to behead the prisoner with a thin and curved steel sword then moves on to the next prisoner.

“You there! Unless you want to join your friend, answer the damned question!”

“We are heading to Dorha!” the prisoner blurts out.

“What for?!” The elf points the sword at his neck.

“We intended to gather up with others and siege the city!” the prisoner says desperately.

“You goddamn traitor!” yells another prisoner.

“Silence!” yells the elf. “Take them away!”

As the prisoners are walked off with their elf guards, a young elf runs up to the interrogator.

“Captain. The information checks out. The anonymous source claims the same thing. They tell the truth.”

“And they are also right about this group of soldiers traveling through here as well.” The captain sighs in exhaustion.

“Who do you think these anonymous entities are, Captain?” asks the young elf.

“I don’t know. Perhaps they are sympathizers? Traitors? The dwarves even? They might even be with those strange Entesian folk with the weird green hats. Honestly, it doesn’t much matter to me, so long as it serves to protect our home and people.”

Unknown to those on the battlefield is that they are being watched. Seventy thousand feet up in the sky is an Entesian U-2 that is surveying the frontlines. It is also there to observe an Entesian operation not far from the recent battle.

A few dozen miles east of the battleground is an STC/Venesian encampment. The Entesian military was able to track down a Venesian commander who had a particular interest in cruelty. Though most Venesian commanders seem to have a strange dislike for elves, this one is ruthless and efficient in murdering elves, at times enjoying the pain he inflicts.

As the camp lais idle, the sound of explosion ripples throughout the land. Some guards and soldiers jump at the sudden noise and look around in confusion. Seconds later, a panic ensues. Soldiers scramble out of their tents, and a group runs with weapons in hand out of the camp towards where the noise was heard. A sudden attack is believed to have commenced nearby.

“What’s going on?” asks the Venesian commander from within his tent.

“We hear a noise to the south. We think the elves might be attacking,” says a soldier.

“Good, we need to capture some of them to bring with us. Send as many forces as necessary. I’ll wait for the success.”

More soldiers soon leave to investigate the noise under the assumption that an elven force is making its way through. Along with the soldiers who wear their bright red and white uniforms under their metal armor, soldiers from the STC also go along with them who wear similar armor with added yellow accents.

Eventually, the sound of gunfire can be heard in the distance. But something isn't right. The gunfire sounds too fast. The sound of rapid-fire makes the commander question just what is happening out there. How many elves are attacking? How many captured muskets did they wield? No, the gunshots are not sporadic; they are continuous.

As the commander is brainstorming, he is startled at the sound of a strange noise from outside his tent. He couldn’t describe it. They are some sort of loud popping noises. Many of them. As if they are gunshots but nowhere near as loud. Then they stop.

The sounds of distant gunfire in the distant battle are the only thing he can hear. Whatever the noise was, he expects a soldier to enter and tell him what it is, but no one did. He doesn't even hear voices or screams. Something definitely isn’t right. He is beginning to get nervous.

Suddenly, three people enter through the entrance but doesn’t recognize them. He doesn't know who they are or even what they are, but he knows they are a threat. Thinking quickly, he reaches for his flintlock blunderbuss beside his desk, but he never got to reach it. With a final loud pop, his vision instantly goes blank, and his body falls with blood oozing from his head.

“Clear.”

“Confirm the identity, and let’s begin looking for anything useful.”

The three men are unlike anything the Venesians have faced before. They wear green camouflage combat fatigues that perfectly blend with the surrounding forest. They also wear a vest and body armor which holds on to magazines. And, of course, their rifles aren’t muskets. They are armed with M4 SOPMOD, all suppressed. It’s all so far standard clothes and equipment.

However, what makes them different from a typical soldier is that they all wear camouflage Boonie hats instead of helmets, a shemagh to cover their faces, camouflage face paint, and a large shawl that hangs off from one side of their shoulders. It’s an unorthodox style of combat uniforms and equipment that serves a purpose in an unorthodox world. The extra fabric not only helps to blend in with foliage but also serves as armor against threats other than firearm projectiles. Resistant to cuts and punctures with some fire-retardant characteristics, the extra clothes are meant to counter the common use of magic and swords.

These warriors are Rangers. But they are not American. Instead, they are the Entesian counterpart. But being a clone doesn’t mean they are any less elite. After all, they are trained in the same way.

“I found something. Come over here,” says one of the Rangers.

The other approaches the one who called him out and looks at a paper in his hands.

“What is it?”

“Look here in the corner, a coat of arms. It looks like it’s a letter from that one Venesian company.”

Taking the letter in his hands, the Ranger begins reading it and is visibly disgusted.

“These fuckers are capturing elves for forced labor. Something about a ‘recently very profitable exploitation’.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“I don’t know. I’m sure the boys in the EIA will want to know.”

“You guys might want to hurry up there. Guys in the west already bailed out. Enemy units are returning to camp,” a voice says through their headsets.

“We’re out of time. Our primary objective is complete. Let’s leave with what we can.”

The three Rangers grab all the letters and documents they can and head out but not before setting fire to the tent. Joining other Rangers who stand guard outside, they run past the dead musket men and disappear into the forest.

The Venesian soldiers who return are met with the burning tents, dead soldiers, and a commander who likely died in the fire. They can only assume the previous battle, of which they didn’t even see the enemy, was a distraction for an assassination attempt by the elves.

.

.

Several days later, despite setbacks in logistics and leadership, the invasion continues. Unfortunately, the Venesians themselves continued to double down and kept the war going.

Way up in the northern hemisphere within the Reneran continent, Entesia went about business as usual. In what is essentially a 1960s America, the Entesian population is well aware of the war going on in Weslec but could not determine what to do. Public opinion is mixed; some wanted to help the elves while others tried to ignore it. The only thing at stake is exports and imports as well as Entesian citizens abroad. Since the war began, Entesia hasn’t been totally stiff; in fact, they have been openly sending supplies such as food and medicine throughout the affected areas.

Even with the higher overall education, intelligence, and knowledge the citizens benefit from, they are still ignorant of how powerful their own country is or how much more advanced military technology is compared to the civilian technology they used.

While most of Entesian society lives in the 1960s, 1970s technology exists in more specialized sectors of society, such as medicine and heavy industry. Commercial technologies advance and evolve by their own efforts and research. On the other hand, the military is decades ahead as their technologies secretly come from the Americans.

In addition to deploying Rangers in Weslec for direct action and EIA agents and paramilitary units overseas for the Rothester Plan, the Entesian military has also been sending out Entesian Green Berets to secretly train elves in guerilla warfare and firearms as part of Operational Plan 2024. But all this is unknown to most as only a few within the military and government know of these operations.

Through the intelligence gathered from the raids and assassinations carried out by the Rangers, the EIA uncovered something interesting. Many Venesian forces are grouped with STC units specifically to capture elves fit enough for hard labor. All documents and letters have so far continued to express the need for more labor. More interestingly, the few letters obtained from higher-ranked commanders are written by a certain ‘Deus Vopiscus’.

In the capital city of Wesking, the Entesian president sits at his desk within the Federal Palace, a structure reminiscent of the White House. In his mid-thirties, Dennis Wilson is a handsome man who had been ‘elected’ as president of Entesia no more than a month ago. Although he took office at the will of the people, all the candidates are Americans who work for the CIA. In the end, no matter who takes power, the Americans are always in control.

Needless to say, all of the most powerful politicians and military officials work for the CIA. Where the native Entesians hold most power is within Congress, as only a handful of American operatives hold seats as representatives or senators.

“Mister President.”

“We’re alone, aren’t we? Why call me that?”

A man has entered Dennis’ office, who comes from the Hexagon, the Pentagon’s Entesian counterpart that houses the Department of Defense.

The man giggles and says, “We gotta keep up the habit. Don’t want to make a mistake in public, might cause people to ask questions.”

“All right, sure. So, Mister Secretary, what do you need?”

“We need you to make a decision as president. We think the information the Rangers retrieved might be significant to the Rothester Plan’s progress.”

Dennis takes a sip of his coffee. “How so?”

“Some Venesian commanders on the field have been receiving instructions to capture and send back large amounts of elf workers for something; a good lot of them are farmers.”

“What for? Hasn’t their objectives so far been killing them off?”

“Yes, but the instructions are from the Venesian ambassador to Narazar. The documents only mention a ‘profitable exploitation’ conducted by the STC.”

“The STC… They are that Venesian megacorporation, right?”

“That’s right. DED-FRAG’s Ringleader Team in Scorcia says the STC recently began moving some operations into the Kingdom. We think this might have something to do with their invasion. Agents within the Empire confirm that ever since they discovered the ‘new world’, the imperial government has been hitting turbulence.”

Dennis leans back into his chair with a sigh. “So, what’s the plan?”

“CIA wants Vincent to question the dwarves or ask the Venesian ambassador directly. It’s a long shot, but they just might tell us what the STC is doing. If all fails, a SEAL Team will break into the Venesian embassy and find out.”

“Christ, we’re allowed to do that? Is that really necessary?”

“Though it would be best if Rothester succeeds soon enough to influence the war, the Director wants it to continue regardless of what happens. No doubt, the STC will pay a visit to the Casi-M station. Or the ‘Casiem’, as Ringleader calls it. They’ll need to know what they are dealing with if they are to continue. Besides, these SEALs are Entesia’s own, good opportunity to see if they match up to the American SEALs.”

“All right.” Dennis taps his fingers on his desk. “Get me in contact with Vincent.”

.

.

In the massive stone city of Shun, Narazar’s capital city, Vincent sits comfortably within the Entesian embassy. He has just received a request from president Wilson. It is a strange request; he is to question the STC’s activities and what they are using the captured slaves for. He doesn't understand why the president needs to know that. He is aware of some of Entesia’s aid to the elves but nothing else. Regardless, it is the request of the president himself, and so he waits. He has already requested the Minister of Foreign Affairs to meet with him in the Entesian embassy.

Having the most prominent known empire in the western hemisphere, Narazar gained much attention from all countries, including Entesia. But among all the embassies of all the human and elf countries and the other two dwarf nations on Kinzad, the Entesian embassy is an oddity. It isn’t large; it is smaller than most other embassies. It is also built in a colonial revival architecture, making it stand out from other buildings in the area. In addition, not a whole lot is known about the Entesians in general.

The Entesian Federal Government heavily restricts who can travel to Entesia and what visitors can reveal about what they see if they are lucky enough to visit in the first place. What is known about the Entesians is their seemingly strange but advanced farming techniques, tools, food recipes, theories in medicine, clothing, furniture, and other items that are exported. The dwarves themselves and others have attempted to reverse engineer some of the Entesian products. Some are successful while others are not. They are also known to import a large number of raw ores and materials, some of which many deem are useless and worthless that only Entesians had any interest in.

The doors to his office fly wide open, sending a breeze throughout Vincent’s office. The Minister of Foreign Affairs has arrived. He is a short man with a large brown beard and short hair with a more muscular build than average humans and elves. Vincent guesses he must have been about five feet tall or shorter. In his eyes, dwarves look in every way like humans who are just shorter on average.

“Ah, Minister Gernik. Thank you for coming on such short notice,” Vincent says as he smiles ear to ear.

“Yes, well. Your people rarely ever interact with anyone, so I thought this ought to be interesting,” Gernik replies. “So why have I been summoned by the famous Entesian ambassador?”

Gernik makes his way to Vincent’s desk and sits across from him.

“Famous? I had no idea of my fame.” Vincent raises his eyebrow. “I’m curious what people think of me.”

“Oh, trust me, it isn't you whom people wonder about. It’s who you represent.”

Gernik looks around the office and admires the Entesian architecture while Vincent sits in silence.

“The Northern Republic… You Entesians are certainly peculiar. Your cuisine, your architecture, your furniture, your engineering, your—academic theories. Everything about your people is unique and unorthodox. But despite how widespread Entesian businesses and products are, your country continues to hide behind those mountains, pushing away anyone who comes near. It truly makes one wonder: what exactly happened in Renera fifty years ago?”

Vincent feels slightly uncomfortable. He feels like he is being interrogated. This is pushing the limits of what he can say.

“What are you insinuating?” Vincent questions.

“Please, ambassador.” He rolls his eyes. “Don’t you find it strange? Renera was nothing special. They were just like everyone else. Then one day, half the continent is engulfed in this huge war when the Kingdoms bumped heads. The next day, a messenger of God descends from the heavens to stop you, people, from destroying yourselves. Then after that? Well, that’s the big unanswered question, ain’t it? That side of the mountain range became the land of unknowns and mysteries.”

Gernik smiles as he watches Vincent tense up. He loves to toy with people and thinks he pressed enough buttons to get Vincent to reveal something.

“I have nothing to say on this subject,” Vincent sternly says.

“Ah, of course, you don’t. Surely there isn’t any—”

“I would rather we leave that subject behind,” Vincent interrupts.

“Hmpf! Then why am I here, Mister Ambassador?” His smile disappears instantly.

“I called for you to answer a question about the Venesians.”

“Ah, the Venesians… Quite intriguing, aren’t they? It’s a sight to see such an advanced civilization from beyond the horizon. Who would have thought there existed others?”

“I specifically wanted to ask about the STC. They’ve been capturing elves as forced laborers. We simply wondered why?”

“Hmm, the elves… Yes, they are capturing elves. Lord Vopiscus tells me that they need them to weaken their rivals before some event called ‘The Summit’. If you wish to know more, consider asking Mister Vopiscus.”

“Why can’t you tell me yourself?”

“I’m not at liberty to say. Besides, I know not much more than that.”

It seems that Gernik doesn't know much else. Even if he did, he doesn't want to tell Vincent. Well, that is that. He got what he could. Perhaps it is enough. Maybe it isn’t. Regardless, Vincent doesn’t particularly want to speak with Gernik for much more. His constant innuendos make him nervous.

Vincent nods his head. “Thank you, that would be all,” he calmly says.

“That’s it? That’s all you wanted to know?” Gernik is perplexed at the strange question. “You Entesians stand around here idly only to ask such a meaningless question? What’s so significant about what the STC does?”

“I’m afraid even I don’t know. I was simply requested to ask you that question and relay back the response. For what reason, I don’t know.”

Feeling like his time was wasted, Gernik gets up and huffs before leaving Vincent’s office with audible steps.

Vincent sighs and loosens his muscles as he closes his eyes to relax.

.

.

The sky is dark, and it is past midnight. The city has gone to sleep, leaving the city in the darkness. Outside a massive and luxurious building within the capital, twelve shadows roam the perimeter of the building. It is the Venesian embassy that these shadows had observed until the sun had gone down. These men are dressed in all-black clothing and body armor. They are ghosts in the night; no badge, emblems, or anything to identify them. With their black suppressed M4s and night vision goggles over their eyes, they would look alien to anyone who would be lucky enough to see them and survive.

These ghosts are Entesian Navy SEALs of SEAL Team 1, and this is their first high-risk mission. Up until this operation, their deployments have primarily been in the forests of Eshe and Naritlume, hunting down Venesian commanders.

Busting through a window, the SEALs spread out in groups of two to quickly sweep through the building. Candles dimly light the interior as most employees aren’t working. It is only guarded by a few Venesian soldiers armed with muskets, sabers, and rapiers.

After some minutes on the first floor, the SEALs make their way to the second floor to continue their search. The SEALs then find themselves sneaking through a hallway with many doors on both sides. As some SEALs enter each room, others keep going throughout the hallway.

Then one of the doors opens, and a Venesian soldier comes out none the wiser. Two suppressed gunshots penetrate the soldier’s metal helmet and breastplate. With a thud, the soldier falls, and the SEALs continue in silence.

At the end of the hallway, they reach a larger room. A large door on one side of the room is guarded by two soldiers who heard the suppressed gunshots and are already looking towards the hallway. When they see the black strangers appear, they tense up and raise their muskets.

“Hey! Stay where you—” Pop! Pop! Pop!

Multiple suppressed gunshots echo through the room as the wall behind the soldiers is splattered in blood.

The SEALs bend over to pick up every casing ejected from their guns. They want to leave as little evidence as possible. The only thing they could leave behind is the bullets lodged within the bodies they shoot at.

Once the guards fell, the SEALs look at the door they guarded. It is larger and more luxurious. They look at each other briefly and internally agreed that this must be where they needed to be. They check the soldiers for any keys, and luckily one of them has one. Silently unlocking and opening the door, the SEALs enter the giant office and make their way to the cabinets on the sides and the desk itself. The SEALs lift their night vision goggles and turn on flashlights as they rummage through the office.

“Jackpot, letters from the mainland. Documents and all. We struck gold boys,” says one of the SEALs who checked the cabinets.

“The ambassador’s desk too. Looks like he was in the process of writing to the commanders on the field.”

“Good. Start taking pictures of everything.”

All the SEALs in the office each take out cameras and begin taking pictures of all the letters and documents. They were explicitly instructed to take photos as opposed to taking it all with them. They couldn’t afford to take it all with them. Otherwise, it would raise suspicion of their objectives and alert the Venesians on what they are looking for.

Once all the pictures are taken, the SEALs quickly try to put everything back in its place. Soon enough, the office looks as if nothing ever happened and nothing is missing or out of place.

With their objectives complete, the SEALs make their way downstairs and out through the window they entered. In less than half an hour, the Entesian SEALs accomplished their mission and disappeared into the night.

The only evidence of their presence left behind is dead guards with oozing bullet wounds and a broken window.

.

.

Back in President Wilson’s office, he is again met with the Secretary of Defense and the EIA director.

“Mister President.”

“Mister Secretary. Director. What happened?”

The director steps up and hands Dennis a document with an EIA stamp in the corner.

“The operation was successful. The SEALs entered and exited no problem.”

“And rather skillfully too. Looks like their training paid off. Gotta give thanks to the Pentagon for their help.”

“What did we learn?”

“We uncovered an interesting plot. Among everything we found, the ambassador held a letter from Venesian emperor ‘Corvus’. It talks of a plan to weaken their most threatening rival: the Ravenian Empire. Which happens to be relatively close to Scorcia.”

“And how do they plan to do that?”

The director and secretary look at each other before clearing their throat.

“To put it bluntly, the STC wants to smuggle large amounts of drugs into Ravenia. On sea by sailing ships towards Ravenia or its own vassal: Migtia. On land with merchants traveling from Scorcia and crossing the border into Migtia and then into Ravenia. They want to turn the country into a land of drugs and drug addicts,” the secretary says.

Dennis chuckles. “That’s an interesting strategy… What drugs are they smuggling? Something we recognize or something native to Adon?”

“That’s where it gets better,” says the director. “It’s the coincidence of the century. The STC is sending the captured elves to ‘Senvia’. It’s a former Kingdom now controlled by the STC. Specifically, the elves are to work in poppy fields and exponentially increase the production of Opium.”

“A hell of a coincidence, isn’t it?” the secretary says.

Dennis has a grin on his face and scratches his head. “This explains their presence in Scorcia. Ringleader can certainly look into it. We can definitely exploit this.”

“I’ll let them know next time the carrier strike group swings by.”